


lady edelgard's home for esteemed gentlemen

by hydracinth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blindfolds, First Time, Foot Jobs, Gags, Light BDSM, M/M, Making Out, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydracinth/pseuds/hydracinth
Summary: Collection of Fire Emblem: Three Houses NSFW drabbles. Usually commissions, usually Hubert focused. Companion art linked at the end of each chapter!
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	1. Hubert/Lorenz - blindfolded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorenz loses a bet.

“Can you see?” asked Hubert, after a brief pause — Lorenz would liken his voice to an oil slick, to something slithering in the dark, velvety and dangerous. But in this moment, there were more pressing matters.

He licked his lips — out of _frustration_ , he insisted to himself, knowing that if that were true he’d hardly feel the need to justify it. Hubert’s pale, spider-like hand sneaked up his neck and then tugged his hair, _sharply_. “ _Ouch_! You —”

“Yes or no?”

Lorenz gritted his teeth. Of course he _couldn’t see_. If _anyone_ in this place knew how to tie a blindfold, it was Hubert von Vestra. With all the meagre dignity he could muster, he ground out: “ _No_.”

“That’s good.” There was an undercurrent of amusement in Hubert’s voice: it sounded to Lorenz almost as if he were _purring_ , a warm, low tone suddenly so _close_ to his ear that he had to stifle a gasp. Hubert gave an amused little huff and then one of those long, spidery hands was on his neck again, retracing the route to his scalp — muscle memory kicked in. Lorenz tensed, deliberately leaning his head back a little, waiting for a harsh tug that never came. The fingers in his hair scratched lightly at his head, tousling his hair. Their movements were suddenly so jarringly _gentle_ that he couldn’t help but lean further back, pushing into Hubert’s hands like some sort of _cat_ , tilting his head into the contact.

“That’s good,” said Hubert, again, and this time his voice was lower, softer. His hand mercilessly withdrew — from behind the blindfold Lorenz heard himself let out a small whining sound, high and disappointed, and his cheeks lit up with colour. The memory of the sensation lingered on him.

Hubert merely chuckled. “Perhaps I should gag you.” He said it _tantalisingly_ , teasingly, with such an air of polite interest he might have been discussing the weather. Lorenz heard the floor creak as he circled around him, felt the padding footsteps, the subtle disturbance of the air as a cape _swooshed_ — the blindfold had made him feel almost supersensory. He heard it when Hubert settled into the chair before him and, with his eyes covered by darkness, imagined the image instead: Hubert sitting, his legs crossed pleasantly, his eyes as piercing as always, and all his imperial remove would make the simple wooden chair seem a throne. He’d be leaning slightly forward, as he did when he — _interrogated_. Perhaps he was smirking. Had he been wearing gloves? Lorenz couldn’t remember, his head felt so very foggy —

A hand slipped under his chin and tilted it gently up, as if their eyes could meet. Soft leather rubbed at his jaw, swiped over his cheek, Hubert’s thumb dragged over his lips. ( _Gloves, then_.) Lorenz felt unconscionably… powerless.

“Hubert,” he managed, then fell silent. The constant touches were making his body feel like liquid. He wasn’t very sure he could move.

“Yes?” asked Hubert, infuriatingly, pulling back. Lorenz could hear the smirk, this time. It did nothing to help his limbs come back under his control. His mouth felt dry — Hubert’s foot nudged his knee and he jerked in shock then dove back tenfold, shuffling across the harsh stones of the floor to get closer. There was a hard knot of tension in his stomach and below that he could feel his cock stiffening in his pants, and they’d barely even begun. It was _infuriating_.

“Do —” Lorenz stopped short. He was not going to _beg_.

Instead he settled on the far more dignified option of wiggling and shifting his legs further apart, making Hubert look at him, and then the knowledge that Hubert _was_ _looking_ and the curious little huffing sound he made only served to make him grow harder. He hoped Hubert had seen _that_ , too.

“You’re so impatient,” murmured Hubert. He sounded almost _fond_. Something tilted Lorenz’s chin up again, something harder and colder than Hubert’s hand. Lorenz only had time to wonder briefly where he’d gotten a crop from at such short notice, and then time to realise this was _Hubert’s_ unholy domain and there was probably all _sorts_ of horrible things in here and a riding crop wasn’t so bad, really, the thought was actually rather pleasant when you got down to it — then Hubert’s foot slid up his thigh. His rambling chain of thoughts cut off abruptly, severed, and dignity forgotten, he spread his legs further apart.

“Go on,” he said, biting the words out, and then, “Hubert. Can you please —”

“None of that,” Hubert replied, cool and sharp. His ankle rubbed against the strained fabric of Lorenz’s pants and over his cock, which was so stiff it felt like it should _hurt_. The contact was welcome relief — firm and soothing and sending pulses of pleasurable heat through Lorenz’s body. He slumped forwards into the touch, pushing his hips into it as best he could from his position kneeling on the ground.

Hubert’s tone had thawed. “This was what you had in mind?”

“Yes,” Lorenz groaned his answer. His hands were twitching like claws where they rested, bound, behind his back. “Yes, just that —”

The pressure on his cock increased, moving in firm little circles up and down. Lorenz’s fingers twitched like a harpy with the need to touch himself and the knowledge that Hubert was not, not in a thousand years, going to do him the courtesy of ripping his clothes off and _really_ touching him, giving him the release he needed — he was far too much of a bastard for that…

“Hubert,” he gasped out, jerking a little. The tension in his stomach felt on the edge of snapping and his cock was throbbing, twitching with need. “Hubert, I —”

The crop fell from his chin and Hubert’s hands replaced it before his head could fall, rougher with need. He kissed him crushingly, seized his jaw, pressed his ankle a little more firmly against Lorenz’s cock and the line of tension in him snapped, the pleasure bursting like a dam. Lorenz could hear himself dimly, keening against Hubert’s mouth as he came; could feel his cock pulsing with his orgasm once, twice, _too_ _many_ times —

When he came back to himself, still gasping for breath, Hubert was untying the blindfold.

“Ah,” Lorenz tried, then had to pause for breath again. “I — Hubert —”

He was unsure, all of a sudden. An odd type of it, mixed with the sagging relaxation, but unsure all the same. What did you say, in such a situation? Thank you? I’ll see you at breakfast? Was this a one time thing, or can we —

Hubert, ever the dutiful aide, answered the questions before he’d even asked them. “I imagine I’ll see you tomorrow.” He undid the rope tying Lorenz’s wrists and kissed them both, quickly, so lightly it could just have been a breeze.

“Tomorrow?”

“Unless you require longer,” said Hubert, supremely unconcerned, stepping in front of him again. “But I like to think I judge character well. Same time?”

Lorenz should say no. He knew he should say no. A thousand reasons prevailed on him from the corners of his mind, most of them speaking in Ferdinand’s voice. Not least was the indignity, the risk, the fact his pants were _ruined_ —

He locked all the objections firmly away, and his lips moved before he gave them permission. “You judged me perfectly well,” he sniffed, and Hubert smirked at him knowingly. “Well, yes — tomorrow it is, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece for [an art commission](https://twitter.com/unrivalling/status/1305450450129268737).


	2. Hubert/Ferdinand - wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It got away from me. Enjoy certified virgins Hubert and Ferdinand, performing tonight for your entertainment!

“I still don’t see why I had to wear this _ridiculous_ outfit.”

Hubert’s skin was shockingly pale. (Of course, Ferdinand had plans to see if he could make him blush by the end of the night.) His pallor only made his lips, red and swollen from Ferdinand’s haphazard kisses, stand out more. It was _pretty_ — especially when Hubert fixed him with a glare for staring — and on top of that, all _his_ to gaze at. Not Dorothea, not Petra, not Linhardt. It was _him_ , Ferdinand, he thought with no small amount of glee, who got to do things like this: accosting their spymaster in an empty corridor and kissing him until his lips felt numb.

“ _I_ think you look dashing. As much as you _ever_ do, of course.”

“We’ll see where that charm gets you,” muttered Hubert — but as _he_ was the one dressed in skirts and silk on nothing but Ferdinand’s request, Ferdinand privately thought that his charm had got him very far indeed.

“To answer your question,” he declared, as if he were addressing a crowd, “you had to wear this because _I_ wanted to see you in it.” He kissed the side of Hubert’s neck, wondering again at whether he actually had a pulse, but — perhaps not the time to check. “And because you _owe me_.”

“You’re insufferable,” replied the most insufferable man Ferdinand had ever met. Pity he loved him.

“Well,” Ferdinand went on after a second, dimly aware he might be talking a little too much for the occasion, but as it was his first time debauching Hubert in a public place and indeed his first time debauching Hubert _at all_ , he felt some nervousness was warranted, “if it helps any, I think this suits you.” He pulled back slightly from Hubert’s neck to peer up at his face, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Maybe you can even wear it on the battlefield —”

“I think not. Perhaps you might like to, though? I’m sure it would draw _everyone’s_ attention —”

“Even yours?”

Hubert sighed. In that instant he sounded like a man who had been through a thousand years of suffering. But all the same, he started carding his hands through Ferdinand’s hair once again.

“Yes, even me. I hope you’ll be happy when your thighs get us all killed.”

“Very much so,” he said, sounding _unreasonably_ pleased, but, well — he wasn’t in the mood to contain himself. “Now, I imagine one of your creepy followers is going to be patrolling this corridor soon enough, so —”

 _No time to waste_ , he had meant to say, but that was when Hubert cut him off.

(It was always strange, kissing him. Ferdinand had — before they’d grown _close_ — imagined it to be oily, unpracticed, and cold to the point of clamminess, only to find out it wasn’t at _all_ like that. A little cooler than most people, yes, but not unpleasantly so. And Hubert seemed about as experienced as he himself was, so there was never any worry that either of them were underperforming, and in fact there wasn’t any oil at all. If anything, his lips were too dry, but something soft and treacherous inside Ferdinand had decided to like that _too_.)

When they broke apart — it felt like an eternity, but hardly long enough — he found himself more than a little dazed. From the way Hubert was breathing, he was in much the same state. Ferdinand watched him wipe his chin with the back of his hand, watched how his eyes remained a little wider than usual, how his pale shoulders were trembling ever so slightly. The thought entered his mind again, and with it came heat in his stomach and then between his legs: nobody _else_ got to see this.

Hubert had eyes like a hawk — or maybe an eagle would be more appropriate. Regardless, evidently his attention to detail paid off, because he glanced briefly down at the slowly growing bulge in Ferdinand’s pants and then, swallowing hard, said, “I rather agree.” It was such a ridiculous response that Ferdinand couldn’t help a giggle; half hysterics, half pure nerves.

“I’m glad we see eye to eye on this,” he replied, and regretted it the moment he said it. It had sounded better in his head. “I — ah. You as well?”

“I believe that’s what I said,” answered Hubert dryly. He touched Ferdinand’s cheek, light as a feather, and then kissed him with all the tenderness Ferdinand had never known he could possess. By the time they parted he could feel himself blushing, his cheeks burning hot, and — _embarrassingly_ — could feel pressure now, as his cock strained against the fabric.

Ferdinand searched desperately for something — anything — to distract Hubert from the fact that a brush of lips could apparently get him harder than any amount of fumbling against a wall. But his mind was one-track, focused only on Hubert’s pale, dry skin and the way his cock was visibly _just_ as hard as his.

“Right, how do we —” he started, at the same time Hubert said:

“So you can —” and then both of them stopped, waited for the other to continue, and Hubert carried on. (Was that a hint of pink on his cheeks?) “Should I turn around? Or can you —”

He gestured with one spidery hand to the wall, just above his hip, and gave Ferdinand a searching look.

“I’m —” truthfully, he wasn’t sure. He’d never had much cause to pick up a Hubert sized thing before. But then he thought about Hubert turning around and how with his face to the wall he wouldn’t be able to _look at him_ or see his lips, and spoke without considering the rest: “I can lift you. Come here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece for [an art commission](https://twitter.com/kryptast/status/1311578270865989632).


End file.
